This is a great time to be a sports fan: hockey is just beginning after a year-long drought, we're right in the thick of the football season, and perhaps most excitingly, the baseball playoffs are underway. Yet, for some reason, I've had this nagging feeling for the last week and I can't shake it. I've tried to keep it hidden for fear of being misunderstood. I've tried to ignore it and convince myself I feel otherwise. But the truth of the matter is: I don't want these playoffs to happen.

What happened for Red Sox fans last October was probably the greatest playoff run any of us will ever be a part of, and it's not just about winning the World Series. There was The Steal, Papi's many game winning heroics, Tim Wakefield's selfless move to the bullpen, Derek Lowe's performance in all three clinching games, the A-Rod glove slap, the bloody sock, and of course, the amazing comeback in the ALCS. From start to finish, the entire ride was magical, and the odds of us ever seeing anything as exciting and enjoyable as that again are slim.

Frankly, I'm not ready for those memories to fade. I'm not ready for those playoff memories to be replaced by new ones. The further forward you drive, the further away those images in the rearview mirror become. For now, I'd prefer to stay parked and just enjoy the scenery a bit more.

People speculated that Red Sox fans would be lost without their misery once the team defeated the Yankees and won a World Series, that we'd lose interest in baseball and the team almost immediately for a lack of something to complain about. In fact, it's just the opposite: I'm not ready to say goodbye to that 2004 team yet. Last October, we took that oft mentioned Red Sox misery, stuffed it in a bottle, and threw it out to sea. At the time, we thought we'd never see it again. But as these playoffs start, as a playoff team that barely resembles that of last year takes the field, we realize that the bottle has washed ashore and now lies at our feet. To be perfectly honest, I'm not quite ready to pick it up.

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Last night I passed up the chance to sit nervously on the couch flipping back and forth between the Red Sox/White Sox game and the Flyers/Rangers game to attend the Dallas Stars' season opener against the LA Kings. Ordinarily, the playoffs and my hometown team would have come first, but this was opening night of the sport I love more than any other, and there's nothing quite like being there in person. (Plus, they were giving away mini Stanley Cups at the doors of every arena in the league last night as a 'Thank You' to the fans. If you think I won't be doing shots out of mine come playoff time, you're crazy.) As we made our way to our seats, the lights went down and the players were introduced. There was a buzz in the air typically reserved for playoff games, and I would be lying if I said I didn't tear up a bit. I've always been a sucker for the beauty and atmosphere of a hockey game. Had I been in my seats at the Wachovia Center, watching the Flyers take the ice, there's no doubt I would have been a foutain.

And then, with the fans still on their feet, the puck dropped. Down 4-0 almost immediately, the Stars spent the remainder of the game kicking the Kings' asses all over the ice and stormed back to win 5-4. In the old NHL? Impossible. Last night? It happened all across the league. As for the new rules, the majority of them will be huge improvements. The larger neutral zones and legality of the two-line pass made offensive explosions more abundant, and the crackdown on obstruction made for a more free-flowing game. But, the increase of goals does leave me longing for one aspect of the game that I always enjoyed. In the old NHL, because goals were so hard to come by, every goal mattered. Watching a playoff game with the score tied with 10 minutes to go in the third period, you knew that the next goal was crucial. Will that tension and anxiety be gone? Will it be replaced by a new tension and anxiety, caused by the idea that no game is ever over until it's over? We'll have to watch to find out, and that's something for which I could not be more excited.